It’s no surprise that every film in the “2000 Seen by . . . ” series— eve-of-millennium stories commissioned by French television— uses anxiety as its starting point. Of the bunch, Tsai Ming-liang’s The Hole has a wit, nerve, and poignant
despair that puts it in a class
of its own, but this double bill, which screens at Cinema
Village for a week alongside The Hole (another four films can be seen next week), is a breezily enjoyable alternative.
Of these two hour-long works, Alain Berliner’s The Wall is the more ambitious. An
outlandish vision of fissure set against a political landscape of supposedly dissolving borders, the movie amplifies the tensions between the French- and
Flemish-speaking halves of
Belgium, bringing events to a head with a whopping dose of surrealism. At the literal and figurative heart of the dispute is portly, mild-mannered Albert (Daniel Hanssens), who hails from the francophone north, but whose chips stand is
positioned smack-dab on the linguistic border. After an
all-night party in the south,
Albert wakes to find the country (and his stall) split in two by a massive, Berlin-ish wall, erected overnight by a government that’s suddenly devolved into a nightmarish bureaucracy with vaguely fascist leanings.
Berliner, who previously
directed Ma Vie en rose,
indulges his taste for whimsy with a sweetly daffy Romeo and Juliet scenario, pairing Albert with a newly forbidden Flemish love. Essentially a simplistic cautionary allegory, The Wall benefits enormously from its playful streak— it’s cartoon Kafka, with more bite than
A loose yet neatly interlocking ensemble piece, The First Night of My Life is a welcome antidote to the shrill and fatuous 200 Cigarettes— it’s a New Year’s Eve ramble that actually ends up somewhere. Setting most of the action in the shantytown outskirts of Madrid (“the butt-end of nowhere,” as someone delicately puts it), first-time director Miguel Albaladejo skillfully maneuvers his hapless characters— including a pregnant woman, her social-worker husband, her disapproving
father, an inept carjacker, and assorted lost souls— and the contrivances that bring them together or keep them apart over the course of a night. It all goes a little soft eventually, but throughout, there’s a warmth and social awareness that keep the film afloat.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on March 9, 1999